


The Spectator

by humanities_angstiest



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Dark, Death, Feels, Hurt No Comfort, Not Happy, POV Jean Kirstein, Poor Jean Kirstein, Sad, Suicide, because its not aot if there isn’t a death, canonverse, classic aot story of pain, gory, maybe only slightly gory, poor as in ‘unfortunate’ not ‘no money', unrequited love if you squint?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:32:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanities_angstiest/pseuds/humanities_angstiest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was laughably easy to analyze the past and see those small, seemingly insignificant moments that changed everything. Jean had the misfortune to look back and see himself standing idly by during those moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spectator

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta’d

Sometimes in the emptiness of the night, when the barracks were eerily silent and no moonlight filtered through the small window, Jean wondered if he was dead. It made sense; his heart no longer beat and he couldn’t live without a beating heart, right? He’d have to ask Hanji some time.

As he lay awake in his bunk, his mind refusing to let him fall asleep, he saw flashbacks of the past year. When asked, Connie said that he looked through his own eyes when he revisited memories. Jean hated his memories. He always watched the scene unfold from above.

It was cruel. His mind taunted him nightly, giving him the ability to view the past from a spectator’s position. He watched from above as Eren distanced himself in self-imposed exile and he stood by, oblivious, doing nothing. It was laughably easy to analyze the past and see those small, seemingly insignificant moments that changed everything. Jean had the misfortune to look back and see himself standing idly by during those moments.

He chose the Scouting Legion over the Military Police because he realized he wanted to fight, to make a difference. Not watch as his world crumbled around him and know he did nothing to stop it.

Then why? Why was he unable to fight when it mattered most? When he finally did, it was too late. Was that a sign from the universe?

The changes were small at first, too small for someone like him to notice about a guy he wasn’t particularly close with. He could forgive himself for not noticing how Eren ate less at meals and slept less at night. Those mistakes belonged to Mikasa and Armin. He couldn’t forgive himself for everything else.

When they first met, Jean pegged Eren as a suicidal bastard. An idealistic fool. A cause of jealousy since Mikasa’s focus was always on Eren, the personification of anger whose own focus was single-mindedly on killing titans. For a long time, that was how Jean saw Eren.

Slowly, Jean saw more. Eren’s optimism, determination, bravery. Loyalty to his friends. Loyalty to humanity, especially after Eren allowed himself to be experimented on repeatedly. That was Eren’s downfall, in Jean’s opinion, his belief in humanity. Jean definitely didn’t think humanity was worth saving. Not anymore.

Somehow, that determined boy from his trainee days grew into a despondent teenager. It couldn’t have happened overnight. That made Jean feel worse, knowing there were multiple chances where he could have intervened and fixed everything if only he had been more aware.

Jean first took notice that something was wrong when it finally dawned on him that he had been able to finish his meals for the past week without a fight breaking out between him and Jaeger. In the past, he had only eaten a few bites before Corporal Levi kicked him and Jaeger out of the dining hall for disturbing everyone’s downtime.

If it weren’t for those unparalleled malachite eyes that rarely lifted from the ground these days, Jean would laugh in the face of the person who told him that the subdued young man absently picking at his meal across from him was Eren Jaeger.

The boy he remembered was completely different from this stranger with Eren’s eyes. When he revisited his memories, Jean recalled a headstrong asshole who was energetic and hardworking in everything he did. That boy stirred soldiers into action with impromptu speeches. That boy was easily provoked by Jean to fight, verbal or physical, oftentimes both.

Just to test whether his newfound awareness of Eren’s personality change was in his mind or not, Jean attempted to rile Eren up like he used to back when they were trainees.

Jean called Eren every name he could think of, ranted about the stupidity in giving up one’s life for a lost cause (which fell a little flat since he could be considered the same type of stupid for joining the Scouting Legion as well), and became so desperate to get a reaction from the dull-eyed teen that he did the unspeakable and asked Eren to tell him about the day the Colossal Titan broke the wall of Shiganshina.

Nothing. Dull eyes looked through him.

They had matured since the days when they fought constantly. Eren lost his identity and Jean lost his best friend. Perhaps that was why Jean hadn’t questioned why he and Eren never fought anymore. The last time they even came close to fighting was months ago now.

It was easily the strangest encounter Jean had ever had with Eren. A week after the infamous spoon incident, Jean crashed into Eren one night as he was getting some fresh air. Well, not “crashed into.” More like Eren assaulted him. It took Jean completely by surprise. He hadn’t provoked Eren at all, he actually hadn’t even seen Eren standing outside in the black night. Suddenly hands were simultaneously grabbing him close and pushing him away, as if the person wasn’t sure if they wanted to be held or hit.

“Jaeger, you asshole! Stop hitting me for fuck’s sake! What is wrong with you?”

When he asked the question, he was referring to Eren’s blindsiding attack, but as he gripped Eren’s wrists to stop the punching, his and Eren’s faces were brought close together and he could see tear tracks on Eren’s cheeks, as if the dark-haired teen had been outside crying alone until Jean appeared.

“Come on Horseface, fight me!” Eren yelled shrilly. He twisted out of Jean’s grip while the taller male was distracted by the shorter’s appearance and landed a punch to Jean’s jaw.

“Dammit, Jaeger, stop. I’m not fighting you.” Jean stepped away from Eren, putting enough space between them to narrowly avoid Eren’s next punch. Normally an attack like this, by Jaeger especially, would stir him to anger and he would have no problem wrestling in the dirt. But it was very late at night and all Jean wanted was some air, not a bruised and dirtied body.

Eren froze at his words. He gave Jean the saddest, most miserable look before falling onto his knees, head hung low. Jean was certain he misread the emotion he saw in Eren’s eyes, because it looked like defeat.

He backed away as Eren’s shaking form made soft sobbing noises and he only glanced back once he was at the castle doors. It had begun to drizzle and Eren still kneeled on the ground, head thrown back and mouth open wide, screaming so loud no sound was heard. It was a frightening sight that was seared into Jean’s mind as he tried to fall asleep that night, and would crawl out of his memory to pester his conscience for many nights to come.

Maybe if he was smart like Armin or attuned to other’s feelings like Marco had been, he could have understood Eren in that moment. If only he knew then what he knew now when it was too late to matter.

After that night, Eren never tried to fight him again. Eren never fought with anyone anymore, neither physically nor verbally. It seemed that Eren never got mad anymore, no matter what thoughtless thing Connie said or how much food Sasha stole from his already meager servings.

When Jean took the time to think about Eren, he figured the formerly animated and rage-driven personality was being tamed by Corporal Levi’s leadership. Maybe that’s what Eren’s friends assumed as well.

Eren’s calmer state seemed like a positive change so Jean didn’t question it. Then, the 57th expedition happened and Jean learned just how quiet Eren could become.

To Eren, the death of his squad-mates was another reminder that he was too weak to make a difference. He was too weak as a child to save his mother, and even after his hard work in training, he was too weak to save Petra, Auruo, Eld, and Gunther from the Female Titan. He alone out of Levi’s squad survived.

This, Jean was able to see clearly. The guilt that came with not making the right choice. He felt it during the Battle of Trost when he issued the command to escape while the titans were distracted eating soldiers, and some soldiers who jumped with him didn’t survive. Many did, and Marco assured him it was the right decision, but he felt guilty for a long time afterwards.

Deciding quiet Eren was scarier than raging Eren, Jean decided to comfort the shorter teen.

It didn’t go as he envisioned. Not at all.

Jean found Eren on the rooftop, where he frequently went to be closer to the stars. This night, Eren’s eyes didn’t compete with the stars for brightest sparkle. Thinking on it, Jean couldn’t recall the last time Eren’s captivating green eyes sparkled. They used to gleam even through the darkness. Now, they were so devoid of light that they seemed to be sucking in the darkness of the night instead.

“Hey,” he greeted lamely, unsure how to go about comforting Eren. He almost left when he got no response, figuring Eren just wanted to grieve alone and Jean’s presence was unwelcome. But that was a lie. He was being a coward, trying to avoid a serious, heartfelt interaction with his enemy turned comrade turned…

No one wanted to grieve alone, Jean argued to himself, sitting with purpose beside Eren.

Eren remained silent. When was the last time Jean had heard his voice? He wasn’t sure. That was so unusual that it finally started clicking in Jean’s mind that Eren hadn’t been himself for a while, and it wasn’t until now that Jean realized to what degree.

“Are you okay?” Of course Eren wasn’t, it was a dumb question, but he didn’t know how else to initiate a conversation.

“Fine,” Eren replied in a soft voice that made Jean’s skin crawl.

“Don’t lie to me, asshole. I came to see how you are. The least you can do is tell me honestly.”

This finally got Eren to look at him, not past him.

“Yeah? You really want to know how I am, Jean?”

Eren’s use of his first name and the unfamiliar look in the dark-haired teen’s eyes made Jean pause before nodding his head and giving a quiet, “Yeah,” which he hoped sounded as sincere as he meant it.

“I’ve been sitting up here thinking of potential ways to kill myself. I can’t bleed to death because any cuts I make will be healed in seconds. My limbs regrow, so chopping those off and waiting for the blood loss to kill me isn’t gonna work. I could always let a titan eat me but some foolish bastard will probably try to save me and die instead because there are orders to protect my life at all costs.”

Jean’s jaw dropped open in surprise and he couldn’t make it close, not until he found the words to yell at Eren for being stupid or tell him to stop joking, which he desperately hoped his fellow soldier was. This was just a poor joke.

“I jumped off this roof once, but it just broke my bones and I had to wait in the cold dark until they healed and I could walk back to my bed. Lately I’ve been thinking about drowning in the bathtub. If I use Corporal Levi’s bath and am caught, it will probably increase my chances of success. What do you think, Jean? My personal theory is that a cut to my nape will end me. After all, a slice on the nape is what kills titans, and that’s what I am.”

Fury rose in Jean at Eren’s dispirited voice as he listed ways to kill himself. Sure, Eren was a suicidal bastard, but it had always been for something. Eren wasn’t going to die willingly. At least, he wasn’t going to before. At what point did Eren lose so much hope that he spent nights on the roof imagining ways to end his life? That he already made an attempt?

That determination to fight and live and see the ocean, arguably Eren’s defining trait, was missing and Jean didn’t know where it went.

“Shut up, Eren. This isn’t funny.” Jean was still praying that this was a joke. Otherwise, he didn’t know the person sitting beside him anymore and that terrified him.

From Eren’s side furthest from Jean, Eren lifted a knife and held it handle side out to Jean.

“Care to do the honors of killing a dangerous monster? You will be doing a service to humanity.” It was so wrong that the first emotion Eren had shown in a long while was eagerness at his possible death.

Jean stared at Eren, trying to comprehend what brought Eren to this point. He asked as much.

“You ask that as if there were any other point for my life to have led to. I’m a monster, Jean. I’ve become the thing I hate most. Everyone is afraid of me, no one trusts me. I’m all alone. I can’t live like this anymore.” Eren’s voice cracked and he reached for Jean’s hand, wrapping it firmly around the knife handle.

“Please.”

Jean woke up in a cold sweat, heart racing. In his dream, he was unable to save Eren. Now that he was awake, he remembered how he threw the knife off the roof and saw Eren’s face fall along with it. Eren stood up slowly and Jean rose with him, ready to grab him if the suicidal bastard tried jumping off the roof again, but Eren only walked towards the door leading back into the castle.

_“I really wish you had done it, Jean. It would have been a good death, to die at the hands of a soldier fighting to save humanity.”_

Lying in his bunk with the early morning light slowly creeping in, he gathered all the hints that something had been wrong for months and paired them with Eren’s words from the night before. The picture became less and less blurry until Jean felt that he understood Eren clearly.

A boy, so devoted to killing the monsters that terrorized his childhood, became one of those monsters in a cruel, ironic twist of fate. It didn’t stop him from his goal, however. He trained twice as hard as anyone else, missing sleep and meals to practice controlling the monster he never asked to become.

Jean thought Eren was fine. Even though he was a titan-shifter, his new abilities helped him kill more titans than he could as a human. Even as his friends became wary around him, worried that inciting his temper could end their lives, Eren fought for humanity. Even as his new squad pointed their swords at him, demonstrating how much they didn’t trust him, Eren gave them the trust they asked for.

Jean now understood Eren’s tears that night when he refused to fight him, how Eren believed Jean was afraid of him like everyone else.

Jean understood why Eren became quiet and cast his eyes downward in submission, to lessen the fears of his supposed comrades.

Jean felt cold, imagining what it would be like to devote oneself to a cause and finally have the chance to fight for it, only to be ostracized by the people whom he was meant to put his trust in and have trust him in return. The life of a Scouting Legion soldier was far from easy. Jean couldn’t imagine retaining his sanity if it weren’t for the support of his fellow soldiers.

“Are you crying, Jean?” Connie peered at him from his perch on top his bunk across the room.

Jean wiped his eyes and sat up, focusing on every face in the room as his friends woke up around him.

“Where’s Eren?” A tinge of panic crept into his voice although he tried to hide it for Armin’s sake, in case his intuition was wrong.

“No clue. Titan boy was gone when I woke up,” Connie replied.

“Don’t fucking call him that,” Jean threatened lowly. This unfortunately attracted Armin’s attention.

“What’s wrong, Jean?” the small blonde questioned carefully.

Jean would no longer sit by, oblivious to his surroundings. If only someone had paid closer attention to Eren, maybe the shifter wouldn’t have reached this point. If only Jean had paid closer attention to Eren, if only Jean had fought Eren that night, if only Jean had informed Corporal Levi immediately of what Eren told him last night, if only…

“Armin, we need to find Eren. I’m worried about what he’ll do.”

“Do you think he’s going to hurt someone?” Armin inquired.

Jean stared at Eren’s supposed best friend, who was concerned that his childhood friend was going to hurt someone else, and not aware that the only person Eren was a threat to was himself.

“Go get Corporal Levi and tell him Eren is in danger, then come find me. I’m going to look for Eren.” As Jean spoke, he was pulling on his boots over his pajama pants, in too much of a hurry to worry about running around the castle in his nightclothes.

Armin might have called after him, but he was already racing down corridors, opening doorways in search of his green-eyed friend. Yes, Eren was his friend. Jean wouldn’t be the same if Eren disappeared from this world. He needed to find Eren and let him know that before Eren did something rash.

He had finished checking the kitchens when Armin and Levi joined him.

“What danger is the brat in?” Levi gruffly asked. His silver eyes were piercing but Jean didn’t falter under their gaze, recognizing the intensity as a mask for concern.

“Eren tried to kill himself a few nights ago and I’m worried he’s going to try again.”

Jean heard Armin gasp but he didn’t break his eye contact with Levi.

“Where do you think he could have gone? Hurry and think, brat.”

Jean put himself in Eren’s place, easy to accomplish since he had just done it earlier this morning. Where would Eren go to die? Would he want to die somewhere public or private? If Jean saw himself as a monster, he would go somewhere where monsters should die. Jean counted the horses though, and Eren hadn’t taken one. It would take much too long to reach titan territory and Eren wouldn’t risk someone noticing he was gone and sending a patrol after him. He must be on the grounds somewhere. But where?

“I have an idea of where Eren might be.” Jean didn’t pause to elaborate. He bolted out of the kitchen and ran for the stairs to the dungeon.

He took the stairs two at a time, rushing to reach Eren who would be standing in his cell staring down at his blade. Jean would tell Eren not to do it and Eren would turn around, tears in his eyes. The blade would clatter on the floor and Eren’s knees would shake before crumbling, but Jean would be there to catch him before he fell. Jean would hold Eren tightly, using his strength to compress the broken pieces of Eren’s soul back together. And it would work. Time would pass and Jean would wrestle with Eren every day. They would trade insults and lie on the rooftop at night, Eren’s eyes always brighter than the stars, no contest.

Jean was certain that this would happen. He could see it so clearly, how could it not be the case?

He stopped running when he almost slipped on the wet ground. Was someone still required to clean the dungeon even though Eren no longer slept down here? The liquid beneath his boots felt thick and a sharp metallic smell clung to the air.

Jean didn’t want to look down but his eyes betrayed him. Rivulets of red streamed out through the cell bars.

Repressing his urge to vomit, Jean pushed open the cell door. He was dreaming, he had to be, because those body parts on the floor, that dark red sticky material coating everything in the room, couldn’t belong to Eren.

_“I really wish you had done it, Jean. It would have been a good death, to die at the hands of a soldier fighting to save humanity.”_

He was aware of Levi and Armin arriving behind him. The loud sound Corporal Levi’s fist made as it slammed into the stone wall again and again. The gasping, hiccuped sobs of Armin. Who was going to tell Mikasa what happened to her brother when she returned from her trip to the capital to secure more funding? Whoever was unfortunate enough to tell Mikasa the news would still have a better death than Eren.

In the mess of red, Jean spotted Eren's body leaning against the wall beside his old bed.

He had cut open his stomach, searching for that one organ or bone that made him not-human in the eyes of his fellow soldiers. His fellow humans. Intestines hung loosely in Eren’s hands, unraveled. A puddle of blood encircled him, but it was the blood around the rest of the cell that told the story Eren was unable to tell.

Blood filled the sink and was splattered on the mirror, where Eren had stood facing his reflection, punching himself repeatedly to make the face of the titan disappear but could only watch in horror as his skin stitched itself back together, his teeth regrew, and his jaw and nose healed no matter how many times he broke them.

The blood on Eren’s swords and the ragged edges of the clothing on Eren’s body told of the limbs he sliced off.

A halo of blood surrounded Eren’s head where it rested back against the wall, a leftover reminder of how hard he banged his skull against the stone until it fractured.

The images intruded Jean’s mind, replacing the scenario he envisioned where he saved Eren just in time.

All his regrets, all the “what ifs” weighed heavily on his shoulders, pushing Jean down to his knees. He felt numb with all the emotions swirling inside. Fury at the soldiers who made Eren feel inhuman and untrustworthy. Disappointment in himself for not noticing sooner and stopping Eren in time.

Incomparable loss.

Oh god, the loss. Eren was the ever-bright energy that made Jean believe humanity stood a chance.

Today humanity had lost its hope, but Jean had lost much more. There would never again be an opposing force to drive him to be his best. No one to care if he led an easy life or strove for a meaningful future. Eren believed he was a monster that the world would be better off without. If only he had known that he inspired Jean to _live_.

 

  
Eren woke up before everyone else. He wanted to be alone for this, no chance of being interrupted and stopped out of necessity for his powers or a fictitious concern for his life when he knew everyone would be safer and happier without a titan living among them.

He crept through the silent corridors until he reached the dungeon where he used to sleep, back when the soldiers were more forthright and honest about their fear and distrust of him.

He wanted a quick death, nothing dramatic like blood writing on the walls giving his farewells.

He stood in front of the mirror, seeing his mother’s dark hair and his father’s eyes. The reminder of them who were gone, and Armin and Mikasa who were still with him, made him pause. Maybe he didn’t have to do this.

He punched himself. His premolar flew out of his mouth but a minute later he still had all his teeth. No human he knew could regrow teeth.

All the pent up fury from months of holding back his emotions descended on him at once, fueling his fists as they punched him in the face again and again and again.

He grabbed his swords, his former pride as a soldier, the weapon he trained with to kill titans. A manic laugh escaped his lips at the human soldier half of himself killing the monster titan half of himself. He wondered if it was really half and half. Just because he could resemble a human in appearance, did that really make him human? What did it mean to be human? If those men who killed Mikasa’s parents weren’t human, did that mean he stopped being human years ago when he killed them?

His body disgusted him. He sliced off one leg, and as he lost his balance and fell back against the wall, he chopped off the other one. His stump body landed on the ground. While he was still lucid, he chopped off his arm. Then he blacked out.

When he woke up, his limbs had regrown. Angry tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes. His head smacked into the wall behind him with greater force each time, until he heard his skull crack, and then his hits became weaker and weaker until he blacked out for a second time.

Again, he woke up with a healed skull.

Every failed attempt made him more determined to succeed. He reached for his blade and sliced a straight line from his collarbone to his navel. By this point the entire room was a mess, nothing like the understated death he originally planned. He reached inside the hole in his chest, pulling out whatever his hands touched first. A long jumbled cord of tubes fell into his lap and he played with them, attempting to straighten them out. As he did this, he could feel the tingling of new tubes growing inside his chest cavity to replace the ones spread across his lap.

Finally, he lifted his sword for the last time, prayed to the Goddesses he didn’t believe in for this to be the end, and sliced a deep line across the back of his neck. There were a few brief seconds after the cut was made that Eren felt relief, knowing this was the end.

Then the world turned black.

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic on this site. If you read it and enjoyed it, please let me know. Well, let me know if you enjoyed it. I don’t need you to tell me you read it because yeah.  
> 


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